The fact of the matter was that Chester was quite content to remain quietly with Lucy and her father and the other good people of the place. Traveling around the country would, without doubt, separate them, and that disaster would come soon enough, he thought; but when Lucy announced that she was ready for a "personally conducted tour to all points of interest," he readily agreed to be "conducted." She was well enough to do so, she said; and in fact it did look as if health were coming to her again. The morning of the second day at Kildare Villa Chester and Lucy set out to see the town, riding in Aunt Sarah's car behind the pony. There had been a sprinkle of rain during the night, so the roads were pleasant. Lucy pointed out the places of interest, consulting occasionally a guide book. "While viewing the scenery, it is highly educational to get the proper information," said Lucy as she opened her book. "It states here that Cork is a city of 76,000 people. According to one authority it had a beginning in the seventh century. Think of that now, and compare its growth with that of Kansas City, for instance." "I have always associated this city with the small article used as stoppers for bottles," said Chester. "You thought perhaps the British needed a cork to stop up their harbor," said Lucy, gravely; "but you are entirely mistaken. The book says the name is a corruption of Corcach, meaning a marsh. The town has, however, long since overflowed the water, and now occupies not only a large island in the river, but reaches up the high banks on each side." They were evidently in Ireland. "A most noticeable peculiarity of Cork is its absolute want of uniformity, and the striking contrasts in the colors of the houses. The stone of which the houses in the northern suburb is built is of reddish brown, that on the south, of a cold gray tint. Some are constructed of red brick, some are sheathed in slate, some whitewashed; some reddened, some yellowed. Patrick may surely do as he likes with his own house. The most conspicuous steeple in the place, that of St. Ann, Shandon's, is actually red two sides and white the others, 'Parti-colored, like the people, Red and white stands Shandon steeple.' and there it is before us," said Lucy. The tower loomed from a low, unpretentious church. The two visitors drove up the hill, stopped the horse while they looked at the tower and heard the bells strike the hour. "What Father Prout could see in such commonplace things to inspire him to write his fine poem, I can not understand," said Lucy. "There is a peculiar jingle in his lines which stays with one. Listen: